


Trials and Tenacity

by Angelwingsl3 (Marie_Fanwriter)



Series: The Reaper and his Archangel [5]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: AU, M/M, M/M Rares 2019, Returning Home, Unexpected guests, between games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 01:59:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17479088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Fanwriter/pseuds/Angelwingsl3
Summary: Summary:Separated again, both Garrus and Saren had roles to play in the Reaper War. One a captive, the other his people's last hope.Excerpt:With a well-practiced sigh, Garrus’ shoulders slumped. His father hadn’t been willing to listen to him when they’d worked together at C-Sec. Why Shepard seemed to think that Garrus would be able to convince him now was beyond him.





	Trials and Tenacity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ooooOdefinitelynotafishgirlOoooo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ooooOdefinitelynotafishgirlOoooo/gifts).



> A short snippet of the months between ME2 and ME3. I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Betas: [**White_Aster**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Sons Of Apollo - Alive**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_O8VZgL_9IQ)

**Trials and Tenacity - Oneshot**

\- - -

Trials

\- - -

Stepping foot into the Vakarian clan home was nothing like what Garrus remembered. He strode carefully across the threshold, a duffle bag slung over one shoulder and his rifle case in his free hand. Trebia’s rays beat down on his armoured back.

Inhaling, he was met with the scent of old wood and dust. Listening for movement once the ancient wooden door behind him closed, he heard nothing. He walked deeper into the home, expecting to run into someone, but no one appeared. The place was eerie like this, empty and quiet.

When Garrus was a fledgling, there had been the constant smells of something cooking and the continuous sound of clan members moving about. He was the eldest of fourteen in his generation and from as early as he could remember the compound had been filled with cousins and other relatives. While he and Solana were a pair, his father’s siblings had four children each. At the most, twenty-eight Vakarians were living together at once.

To find home empty like this was unnerving.

Still, he entered the clan wing and, shortly after, his own bedroom. Dust motes spun in the summer light, and thin layers coated so many untouched surfaces. Across from the door, a bed sat abandoned for years since he’d last been home to visit. On the left wall, his desk was still strewn with old papers and datapads. The fresh green and silver colours helped settle his mind as he changed into civilian clothes, something appropriate for a turian on leave and still getting used to Palaven’s daytime temperatures.

Garrus’ mind still reeled from the past week. With Saren gone and the Reapers on the galaxy’s doorstep, returning to Palaven made the most sense. With his father’s help, he hoped to convince the Hierarchy to do something about the Reaper threat. Evidence from all of their missions had been compiled by EDI, and all of the _Normandy’s_ alien squad members had returned to their people to try and convince someone, anyone, to listen.

With a well-practiced sigh, Garrus’ shoulders slumped. His father hadn’t been willing to listen to him when they’d worked together at C-Sec. Why Shepard seemed to think that Garrus would be able to convince him now was beyond him.

Scratching at the scarred plating under his eye, Garrus forced himself out of his head and back into the hallway. He’d check his father’s office before finding a way to Mnemosyne Memorial Hospital in central Cipritine. The Helios Medical Institute had transferred his mother there for treatment, the significant costs covered by his and Mordin’s donation just before they hit the Collector base. His family could have paid without him, but it would have cost his father’s entire pension.

At the very least, the salarians moved fast. Before they’d made the final run, Garrus knew that she would have a fighting chance and Solana would have some help. At that time, it was all he could do.

He’d returned not only for the Reapers but for his mother’s sake as well. By the last update, she still wasn’t doing well. A sick feeling roiled in his gizzard. He didn’t want to want Saren right now, but with all his heart he did. He wanted to be wrapped in his partner’s warmth and reassuring grasp, instead of standing alone in the hall outside his father’s office. Saren hadn’t even known his mom was sick. Garrus never told him.

Raising a hand, he gently pinged the room. Beyond the door, he heard a brief shuffle of movement and then his father’s voice, muddied with fatigue and a hint of curiosity. “Come in.”

Garrus took a brief moment to steady himself before opening the door. He hadn’t called ahead. With everything else going on, the thought of sending word first made him want to back out of it entirely. Give him a gun and Garrus could shoot the pistol out of Saren’s hand from nearly 500 metres away, but at this moment, standing in front of his father with his fucked up face… he very nearly didn’t open the door.

Stepping over the threshold, he was met with the familiar stylings of his father’s office. The warm stone floor of the hallway gave way to polished tile and an old-world aesthetic with heavy wooden furniture. The aromatic smell of real books lining tens of shelves was heavy in the air, just as he remembered. Garrus felt like a fledge again, shuffling inside and taking his time to make eye contact.

“Garrus?”

His head snapped up at his father’s voice, his back tightening like he expected there to be a fight. But when Garrus finally took in Castis’ expression, he wasn’t met with the contempt he expected, nor the disappointment he knew well. His father’s mandibles rested slack against his jaw, his mouth was slightly parted, and his hands were flat on the desk in front of him as he stood up.

Garrus was struck by just how old he looked. “I’m home,” he said.

In barely the blink of an eye, Castis was out from behind his desk and closing the distance between them. Garrus found himself pulled into his father’s arms and went stone-still. He couldn’t help narrowing his eyes as he accepted the embrace, having expected rage or disappointment… not this.

“You’re alive,” Castis breathed, his second voice wavering around the quiet words.

Blinking a few times, Garrus finally broke out of his stupor. Slowly, his own arms rose to wrap around his father’s cowl, hugging him back. An apologetic note fell from his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

Castis pulled back enough to look Garrus in the eye. His gaze traced across his maxilla and almost immediately fell on the scarred half of his face. The bandage had been removed before he left the _Normandy_ , leaving behind a swath of scar tissue and half-grown teeth. Carefully, Castis raised one hand to his mandible, a mournful expression crossing his plates while he gently turned his head to the side to get a better look. “Garrus-”

“I know.” While the younger turian allowed his father to manipulate the angle of his face, he did cut him off with a brief shake of his head. “I’ll explain later.”

“All right,” Castis agreed and dropped his hand. “As long as that means you’re staying?”

Garrus nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “If that’s okay. There’s… a lot I need to talk to you about.”

“Of course, son,” his mandible flicked out in a smile. While his eyes were still sad and his posture tired, Castis reminded him: “This is your home.”

Garrus did not realize how much he needed to hear those words. He took a step closer, closing the distance and this time, it was Garrus that pulled Castis in for an embrace. Somehow, it didn’t matter that he’d been gone for years, and left on terrible terms.

He was home.

\- - -

Tenacity

\- - -

As the days in custody rolled onward, Saren grew more and more confident that he would never get out. He’d settled into a routine, waking each morning to the sound of never-ending whispers and the scrape of his breakfast tray being pushed into his solitary confinement room through an airlocked chamber. The food was edible, if not a little bland.

Once he was finished eating, and after about an hour had passed, he’d be escorted to yet another room for ‘exercise.’ Again, an empty concrete chamber with four blank walls. There was a hooped ring at one end, and occasionally an orange and black ball. Today was not one of those days. Instead of working on his hand-eye coordination with the human sport, he spent his hour going through a cardiovascular exercise routine. He could manage body weight exercises in his cell and would do that after the evening meal to tire himself out enough for sleep.

A shower followed. An impersonal, cold tiled room with no privacy. Guards watched him disrobe and scrub his plates. He felt the humans' eyes on him, even as he rested his prosthetic forearm against the wall and leaned into it, letting the lukewarm water cascade across his cowl.

Had he attempted, Saren knew he could escape. That, he decided just two weeks in, was worse than being under the Council’s knife. When he was first in custody as they ripped the Reaper technology from his body, there had been no hope. Now, he had tasted being with Garrus. He’d been back in his old role as a Spectre mentor. Saren had regained his life in a way he hadn’t known in years.

“Time’s up,” one of the guards called out from behind him, near the door.

Saren slammed his fist against the water shutoff. His eyes remained closed for a few seconds, even as rivulets of water grew cool and chilled his hide. This… this wasting away was so much worse.

He dressed in the clothes the Alliance provided, standard turian fatigues and a pair of ill-fitting boots. Cuffs were placed around his wrists, and he was led from the showers down the only hallway. It split off in two directions, one leading to his cell and the other to the interrogation room. That was the only real variation.

On unlucky days, he was torn from solitude to be questioned or poked and prodded. On better ones, Saren was left in his cell until dinner was placed in the airlock. There he could pass the time reading Alliance-sanctioned materials, which included novels from a variety of species and non-fiction titles to keep his mind engaged.

Today, the guards led him to the interrogation room.

Saren silently cursed the Alliance, scraping his tongue along the line of his fangs to keep himself silent. While the interrogations had yet to get physical,  it was expected that they would turn to violence eventually. His cooperation could only give them so much information, there were things the voices didn’t allow him to say.

“In here, Arterius,” the lead guard opened the door for him. “Mind your manners.”

His head drew back slightly at the comment. He could not see the armoured woman’s face but nodded warily. Her tone was quite stern, as was the SMG she had trained on him.

A small chuckle and then a voice filtered out from the room behind the officer. “That won’t be necessary, Lieutenant.”

Saren blinked twice. He knew that voice. Stepping across the threshold, he came face-to-face with none other than Doctor Karin Chakwas.

“Doctor,” he greeted. Disbelief filtered into his subvocals. Saren hadn’t expected to see a face he knew ever again, let alone one of the core members of Shepard’s crew.

She smiled at him, her head cocking to the side. “Arterius, it’s been too long.” Her gaze drifted beyond him, to the guard. “The cuffs aren’t necessary, Lieutenant.”

“Ma’am, that’s against-”

Chakwas cut her off, her silver brow rose as she stared the woman down. “You’re not questioning a superior officer, are you, Lieutenant?”

There was no further discussion. Saren wasn’t sure if he imagined the sound of the guard’s teeth gritting or if it had actually been loud enough for him to hear. Once he was freed, he rubbed his wrist.

“Have a seat, Arterius. We have a lot to discuss.” Chakwas gestured to the chair across the table from the one she’d taken for herself. When he stepped inside, and the door closed behind him, leaving them alone, he realized two mugs were on the surface.

Taking a long inhale, the scent of kava filled his nasal cavity. “This is a surprise,” he said, as he took the offered seat. Chakwas joined him, pushing the kava toward him. “A welcomed, surprise. I might add.”

The smirk resting on her lips grew a little wider. “I’m glad you appreciate my company. I checked with Jack. She said that’s your favourite.”

Saren brought the cup to his mouth, inhaling the bitter smell with his eyes shut before taking a long sip. Compared to the swill the humans here called kava, this was perfection. “She was correct. Thank you.”

Somehow, the Doctor understood he needed a few moments. Not specifically to sip at the beverage, but to appreciate not being alone with faceless guards and interrogators. When he opened his eyes, she was smiling and waiting for him. “There is time, Arterius.”

His mandible flicked out in acknowledgment. “How is-”

“Everyone is fine,” Chakwas cut him off, folding her hands neatly on the table in front of her. “Shepard has the team spread, working with their respective governments and associates. I cannot tell you more than that. I hope you understand.”

Words caught in the back of his throat and all Saren could do was nod once more. He had a thousand thoughts rushing through his head. Enough questions that they drowned out the Reaper’s influence for a few moments. “I do,” he replied eventually, despite how much it hurt to not be able to ask after his love and the people who’d become his friends.

“If you consent, we’ll be seeing more of one another,” Chakwas told him. “I’ve accepted a position with Alliance R&D, here on the Citadel.”

Saren’s head tilted to the side, settling his mug on the table.  “A position?”

“I will be in charge of a research team attempting to counteract the effects of indoctrination. If you agree, you will be our subject."  
  
"Research indoctrination,'" he repeated wryly. "Need I remind you of the repercussions of Virmire, Doctor?"  
  
"I am well aware of what happened on Virmire, Arterius."  
  
"Then you are aware of my attempts to 'study' indoctrination."  
  
"I won't lie or make false promises, but there are differences between then and now."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"You as the test subject, for one. Your situation is unique to any other victim of indoctrination we've seen yet. You've been indoctrinated for years." Her features softened somewhat. "You've been _fighting_ it for years."  
  
"With minimal success."  
  
"I wouldn't say that. We know very little of how indoctrination really works, but if my hypothesis is correct, backed by Alliance funding and with the help of-” she cut off, unwilling to give the name. “I will try to engineer a serum if you will. At least, that is my hope.”

After drumming his talons against the metal table for a few moments, considering the thousand more questions that filtered into his consciousness, Saren slowly nodded. “Hope is a dangerous thing,” he said. “It is something I did not believe in before the _Normandy,_ and something I should not trust now.” He cleared his throat, staring the human woman in the eyes. “We cannot fail, Karin.”

She reached out, resting a single, warm hand over the top of his real one. “I will do everything in my power to ensure we succeed, Saren. I promise.”

When her hand left him, they got to work.

\- - -

**Author's Note:**

> <3


End file.
